So, So, So

Tired.

Like wiped out.

Of course I got up today at 4:30 a.m. so that might be a part of it.

But.

I also realized that I haven’t had a day off in, what, ten days?

I always forget that about mid-week after a weekend of classes.

Oh yeah, I didn’t have any days off because I was in school over the weekend.

Which means I worked my full-time job, went to therapy, went to group supervision, went to solo supervision, and saw 8 clients last week, then I had a full weekend of classes.

And come Monday I went right back to work, solo supervision, therapy, clients, etc.

I have two more days of work, two more days of clients, group supervision on Saturday and a CBT webinar I have to do on Sunday.

Sunday is shaping up to not be much of a day off, but I will have some down time.

Which will likely be filled with school work, but I will also try to slide in a yoga class or two during the weekend and god, I so need a mani/pedi and face waxing.

Yeah.

I said face.

I’m this close to getting electrolysis.

It’s a luxury expense, but then I think about the money I spend to have it done and I could have probably already have paid for it ten times over.

Some things feel like luxury.

Some things I don’t think about dropping money on.

I see a gift for someone that I know they will like.

And money is not a problem.

I have it.

Yesterday, for instance, I totally was only getting my charge some stickers.

I mean, rainbow stickers, maybe a couple of horses and some hearts, but nothing over a couple of dollars.

I also had an ulterior motive, I wanted to pick up a card for my best friend whom I miss awful bad and so being close to Serendipity in the Mission I decided, heck, kill two birds with one stone.

Get my charge some stickers and pick up a card.

Except.

Ha.

She saw a stuffed unicorn with rainbow mane and tail and it was over.

I mean.

It was magnetic, the girl just went straight to a basket of unicorn stuffies and grabbed hers right out.

“_______________ I want this one!”

And then she did it.

She turned the eyes on me.

I have never had her do that to me before.

My god.

The child has some power.

I took the unicorn and looked at the price tag.

I could afford it, in fact I had taken some money out earlier in the day when I was shopping up at Whole Foods in Noe Valley, and I had almost exactly what the unicorn cost.

I got it for her.

The happiness in her face.

I will never forget that look.

I also had to take a picture, those big, sweet, melty eyes and how she held that unicorn, oh my gosh.

And then today.

I was in early, early to help out the parents who need me to do a drop off to the school and she brought the unicorn in to be her quiet time nap cuddle toy.

I was beyond thrilled.

It felt very special that she had to have it with her and I’m so grateful I got her something that she loves so much.

The mom was telling me how much it means to them that their kids get a long with me so well, that they had actually been looking for a nanny for over a year when they found me and they are very happy with me.

We’ve booked ourselves out all the way through the school year.

Which means basically that I have a job for as long as I need.

My contract will end on January 1st of this year.

I have no doubts at all that we will be renewing and at that time I will ask for a cost of living raise.

San Francisco has not gotten any cheaper to live in and I am so getting a car.

That came up yesterday in my therapy session, what it means to have a car, the last time I had a car, to rent it or own it, my finances, how I can navigate getting one.

My therapist said, “having a car in this profession is a deep kind of self-care.”

And the moment she said it I knew how true that was, to be able to come and go on my schedule, to not be seeing clients wet from having ridden my scooter from my day job to my internship in the rain, to not be riding in risky weather.

Getting a car is a deep movement into self-care for me.

I’m ready to do it.

I have to figure out time, of course, it feels like it just slips through my fingers, but I think that the week and a half that my family is away for Thanksgiving will be a good time to do it.

Mid-November.

I may have to deal with some rain before that time and I can take cars.

If time opens up for me before that I will do so, if not, I’ll mark November 16th as the day I want to have my new car by.

That’s a the Thursday before Thanksgiving and my family will be flying out the evening before on their vacation.

I’ll have a day off during the middle of the week when it’s not too busy, not a Saturday at 2p.m. when everyone in the world is out looking at cars.

That’s the current thought around that.

And it’s exciting.

I got a portion of my financial aid released to me, a few more dollars into my savings account and I’m in need of some clothing staples, and maybe one nice new dress, and the rest will be earmarked toward the car.

I’m really going to do this.

And I’ll make sure I’m well rested for it, not going to the dealership tired.

Oof.

Anyway.

I’m starting to ramble and I just want a hot tea, a pear, and a snippet of a video.

Then off to bed.

My bed looks so good right now.

I cannot wait to crawl under the covers.

Seriously.

It’s going to be good.

So.

So.

So.

Good.

One Foot in Front

Of the other.

And moving forward and go.

Go.

Go.

It was quite a packed day, but a lovely day, a day of many smiles and laughs and appreciation for my life.

I got up and did a yoga class.

It was mediocre.

The teacher is just not a good teacher.

But I went anyway.

I always have a moment, or fifteen, when I want to email the studio and just be like, get a new instructor!  This guy sucks!

He doesn’t suck, he’s just young and not a good teacher.

He’s a great yogi.

I am I have seen him do amazing things with his body, he obviously has an incredible practice, but it doesn’t translate to being a good teacher.

So I sort of muddle through and just pat myself on the back for showing up and taking what I like and leaving the rest.

My previous teacher, God I miss him, was amazing, so I feel like there’s some disparity there, and I acknowledge that I was gifted with an extraordinary teacher for a while and thank God for that, if I had the teacher that I have now when I started I would have quit.

When his classes have been on other days I have just avoided them.

But.

My schedule is not really too flexible now in regards to when I can get into the studio, 9 a.m. on Saturday and 9 a.m. on Sunday are the two classes I know I can make and have been really rigorous about making.

So.

I’ll put up with the mediocre for now.

It will change, either he will no longer teach that time slot, other people’s schedules change, not just mine, or when I can I will take another class and opt out of the ones he teaches.

Until then, I literally suck it up and just go.

Better a mediocre yoga class then no yoga class.

Tomorrow, however, is a great teacher, and her class kicks my ass, but I get a lot more out of it and though I still have a preference for my very first teacher, he really was astounding, I like this teacher and she’s good.

And this week I’ll get to go to a morning yoga class on Tuesday.

Yes.

I will be doing yoga to celebrate the 4th of July.

I have the day off and when I have a day off I want to go to yoga.

And a friend of mine I haven’t seen in a while is going to come to class with me and then we’re going to go to Trouble Coffee and get caffeinated and catch the fuck up.

Super happy I get to see him.

He just got back from doing the Aids LifeCycle ride and he was my mentor when I rode it in 2010.

I still aspire to ride again, just now is not a good time to do it.

Perhaps after I graduate or I get my intern number and can start charging for my sessions.

Anyway, it was good to see him tonight and get in some good hugs and also to let him know I’ll have some weeks off in July and can do lunch.

I’ll probably head down to his job place and hang out with him on his lunch break.

I have that plan with another friend of mine who is also super busy in her life and we connected this past week and I told her the same thing, I will come to you, I will meet you for lunch, let’s hang out.

Whenever and wherever I can I will be seeking out social contact.

I put in 8 hours at the internship today, two of them today and the rest was seeing my supervisor on Monday and then seeing 5 clients.

Ultimately I will be seeing 8 clients.

I could possibly do 10 but I think that would be too much.

I will, however, pick up consultation hours when I have that time off from work with my family.

I will suck up as many of those as I can.

But I will also try to not work too much.

Catch up with friends, hang out, go to coffee, see my dear French friend and her little brood before they head back to France at the end of July.

There is a lot for me to do and see and be allowing myself to be seen.

Happy that is all happening.

Happy I also took care of a bunch of errands today, picking up packages at the post office and dropping off a package to return at UPS.

And I got a big grocery shopping trip in.

And I did the deal.

Which was great and picked up a commitment for Saturdays to keep me connected and not drift off into my internship land too far.

I’m trying to keep it all balanced out.

Sometimes I do better than others.

But I am getting decent sleep.

Eating really well.

In fact.

Yesterday, woo hoo, was my four-year anniversary marking my abstinence from sugar and flour.

That was nice to note.

Getting in the yoga when I can.

Doing a good job at work.

Doing a good job, I feel, at my internship.

Tomorrow I will do yoga in the am, have a nice breakfast and a latte, do some writing and then zip over to Cheap Petes and grab my prints.

I’ll be meeting with a lady at 1pm to do some work and reading and connecting.

Then a quick-lunch here.

And.

Yes.

Some pampering.

I’m getting my mani/pedi/waxing the fuck on.

So looking forward to that.

And.

After that.

A zip downtown to do some clothes shopping.

And like that.

The weekend.

Loving my life so very much.

Busiest girl in the world?

Maybe, but probably not.

Luckiest girl in the world?

Absofuckinglutely.

Moving and Shaking

Things are happening.

When aren’t things happening?

Ha.

I have an appointment next Wednesday to speak with a local MFT (Marriage/Family/Therapist)/psychologist about being my off site ICC supervisor for school.

I must have two hours a week supervision as part of my internship process with a licenced therapist who works in a modality that I relate to and want to use while in practicum and who will sign off on my training for school and keep all the important people, like the BBS, Behavioral Board of Sciences, off my back.

I am not stoked about having to work more things into my schedule but I am resigned to it and I am finding that I am ok with what is slowly unfolding.

The never having a life outside of this career path.

I jest a little.  I will have some time, I will make sure I sleep, for instance, but I won’t be having any free time.

Less than I have now, that’s for sure.

Life.

Sometimes it moves so fast and that’s actually what I’m counting on, that the year will whip by and I’ll be graduating and although I will most likely stay at the Liberation Institute to accrue all my hours, I won’t have to be juggling so much.

Of course.

I get away with myself, but I’m just thinking ahead, and reflecting all at the same time, how life changes and things change, people change, I change, and how I feel a much different person than who I was when I started this school program.

I am grateful for this change.

More is on the horizon.

And it is a horizon littered with work and school, that’s for sure.

I’m going to be helping out next weekend for the family as the dad is out of town on a work gig overseas for a week.

The mom and I figured out what she needed to maintain three kids and not lose her mind and also that I not lose my mind either, because I will not have any days off next week and then I will transition right back into my regular hours and then my next weekend of classes.

Yeah.

Like that.

It’s a trade-off of sorts for me.

I will be helping them as they will be helping me.

I was granted my time off request for Burning Man, that’s one of the trade offs, and also, the family will still be paying me for time worked in July when they are on vacation in Europe.

I will not be able to do the traveling that I had hoped for, but I will be properly compensated for my time, I will help out at the house a couple of days and I will do my internship and supervision and, I suspect, a fuck load of yoga and catching up with any socializing that I will have missed the first few months of doing my internship.

I will also, I suspect, make hay while the sun shines and perhaps pick up some extra hours while I can at the internship.

I am feeling a little less nervous about the process and also super grateful for the family and specifically, the mom’s support.

We talked a lot today about what my needs were and whether I was being met with working 35 hours a week when the original deal was 40, for instance, and I was happy to report that after two months of working 35 hours a week I was maintaining my standard of living and did not feel that I needed to be working 40 hours.

And I don’t.

And.

I don’t want to.

Between school commitments and then gearing up for the internship, I won’t want to work more for them, and I expressed such to her.

She was 100% behind me.

We also talked about how I will need a hard leave of 6p.m.

Like I will have to be walking out the door.

She is going to make sure she’s headed back on those days a little early and I will make sure to get dinner on the table by 5:30 p.m. instead of right at 6 as I have been.

It felt so good and adult and co-created with all the family’s needs and my needs and I feel so happy to be with them.

It really is the perfect job for me to be in to support this push through school and I was very glad to express my gratitude to the mom and to let her know that I was very happy with them.

“And us too, we are so happy that you are with us,” she told me today over lunch.

A lunch I had the pleasure of making for her.

I find a lot of delight in cooking for people and that they are European and eat all the yummy stuff is wonderful for me.

I don’t imbibe, but there is jus something so satisfying about cooking with good quality ingredients.

I didn’t make her a fancy lunch, but I made her a nice lunch (nursing mama’s should always have nice lunches!) spinach salad with chopped organic tomatoes, baby mozzarella and a dressing I made accompanied by a thick slice of avocado toast with shaved Gruyère and butter and a sprinkle of sea salt.

She was happy.

I was happy.

It’s a joy.

And I had a really awesome time with the kids today too who didn’t want to see me leave and I got all sorts of amazing hugs and snuggles.

And.

Hey!

Tomorrow’s Friday!

Woot!

I was also reminded, rather harshly, giggles, that I was not there last Friday to pick them up from school since I was in school and since we normally do a special Friday treat, ice cream cones from BiRite after school pick up, that I had to make sure to not only pick them up, but that I should probably make up for my lapse in judgement by making them with sprinkles.

Rainbow sprinkles.

“And Carmen, LOTS OF THEM!”

I promise, kiddo, lots of them indeed.

Happy Friday eve!

I am so ready for the weekend.

Seriously.

 

 

And It Was

A good day.

I’m a little jazzed up from all the dancing at the wedding and my toes are a little squashed, I don’t normally wear heels all day long and then dance in them, but it was a wedding.

And.

It was wonderful.

I got teary quite a few times.

The bride.

Lordy.

So beautiful.

The ceremony was sweet and funny and full of love.

I was happy to bear witness and be there and it’s been a while since I’ve been to a wedding and it felt really nice to be present to connect and reconnect with friends I don’t often get to see, to have some dancing time, some hugging time, some hanging out and being seen and seeing time.

Granted I am sure I will be hella tired tomorrow for my last day of classes of the semester.

But.

LAST DAY OF CLASSES OF THE SEMESTER!

So very grateful that’s happening.

I’m ready.

The last day of the motherfucking semester.

So lovely.

Today was rather hard to sit through, I had a slight headache and a little bit of tired and also it was rainy and torrential and very grey and wet and I just did not want to go to class.

I did though.

I got through the day.

I got back another paper from Family Therapy with some nice comments on it.

I had a wonderful lunch with a few friends from my cohort.

I got to flounce around the halls in my fancy dress and my blue suede shoes.

Sorry.

No pictures.

I tried taking a few, I did, my friend did, but I don’t know, I just was not feeling it.

Sometimes the pictures they happen and sometimes I can’t get the right angle to save myself and I get tired of taking selfies and I just stuck my phone in my purse and said, fuck it.

I look pretty in my dress, with my hair up and my red lipstick on and I don’t need photographic evidence and I don’t need to post 1,000 self-referential photos on social media.

The phone stayed in my bag most of the wedding.

There was a photographer there, I’m not worried about not getting to see photos from the day.

What was more important was to sit and connect and be with friends.

That was the best.

My best girl friend and I started shaping some definitive plans for a girl day hang out in January.

Sephora, The MOMA, The Balboa for a movie, Chinese food in the Richmond.

Yes.

Yes, please.

It was so good to see her.

It’s hard when your friends move away.

I’m so grateful that moving away was just to the other side of the bay, it’s still hard to get together and getting in and out of the city with the traffic is nuts on everyone so when we do get together, it is such a gift.

I’m lucky to have the women in my life that I do.

So very lucky.

Ah.

Yes.

There.

Winding down.

Hot tea in a cup.

Heels off in the closet.

Stockings slipped off my legs.

I’m still in my dress and crinoline, but bare toes on the rug and happy to be home.

If just for a little while.

I’ll be back up early in the morning and off to class, and gratefully, fingers crossed, I’ll be back on my scooter.

The rain looks like it’s passing for a bit.

I’ll be able to ride to class in the morning.

One more day of classes.

One more week of obsessing about when I’m going to get to writing my last paper.

Which I’ve already figured out will be Saturday, but I do hope I can do a little work on it Monday when I’m at work.

Wow.

Which I just realized.

Will be my last week with the family up in Noe Valley.

And then the week following my last week with my primary family.

The mom and I hammered out the last shifts that I’ll be working, they’re sort of odd hours since the boys will be out of school and the mom has some holiday stuff planned for them, activities, outings the like, I will have off schedule hours the whole week.

Monday will be 10a.m. to 6p.m.

Tuesday 9:30a.m.-5:30p.m.

Wednesday 9:30a.m.-5:30 p.m.

Thursday 9a.m.-1:15 p.m.

And.

Friday, December 23rd, my last day with the boys, 10:30 a.m.-1 p.m.

Fucked up.

But whatever.

I’m not going to worry about it, I am going to be flexible and be there and have a nice last week with them.

It’s wonky.

But.

I am grateful that I will be getting out of work so early on Friday.

I’ll be able to wrap up any last-minute errands I need to attend to before my flight out to Wisconsin and I’ll be able to be mellow about getting there.

I will pack day of when I get home and not be concerned.

I wish I had known that I was going to be out so early on that day, I would have scheduled an earlier flight, but it’s really handy to have the later flight and a good spread of hours to pack, clean, change clothes, tidy up and take care of any last-minute things that need to be taken care of.

Then a week off.

From work and school.

I really am going to take a week off.

No homework.

No reading.

No applying to practicum sites.

Nothing.

Just hang with my friend and her family.

Maybe nap.

Maybe read a book for pleasure.

God damn that sounds so sexy.

I’ve got some things between here and there.

But I’m getting closer and it’s damn nice to know that when I get up in the morning all I have to do is show up for my last day of the semester.

And then.

The Psychopathology paper grind will commence.

I will get it done.

Though.

I will.

I always do.

 

Well, That Was Fast

I’M GOING TO BURNING MAN!!!

Not that I am excited or anything.

So fucking excited, piss my pants excited, burst into tears excited, over the moon excited, can’t believe I actually get to go excited.

“Well, of course you are,” a friend commented on my facecrack page, she never doubts that I will be there, of course I will be there.

“Work or play?” The next question asked.

Holy shit.

PLAY!

I haven’t played in years, almost a decade you could say, although that’s not quite true, since this will be my tenth burn.

I sort of played my first year, but got scooped up into working at the Center Camp Cafe and I worked some pretty gnarly shifts there, picking up extra hours when the man was lit up early and a bunch of people left Cafe to go work on building a new man for the event.

That was my first year.

“You need to set up a Burner Profile,” my friend told me, who’s helping me get the ticket and who’s just a freaking peach and I’m so glad I asked.

I mean.

So fucking glad.

Pride in reverse was something I recognized last night when I was doing some inventory, and also how when it was suggested by a friend that I go anyway, that I go early, that I skip the burn and be back for school early, I poo poo’ed the idea.

Martyr.

I realized that I was willing, capable, and had completely sabotaged myself around going.

The way I wanted to go was not happening, so I’m not going, and I’m going to feel all butt hurt and sad about it, but not say anything and take it like a trooper and be the big girl.

And fuck that shit.

I mean.

Really?

I want to go, I can ask and see about doing it differently.

And when I asked.

It all fell right into place.

Shockingly so.

I got a response on the ticket this morning.

I found a place to camp literally minutes later.

I almost couldn’t bring myself to open the e-mail when I saw my friend had responded, she’s going to say no, it’s not available, it’s not an option, I can’t go, why did I bother…

Wait.

What?

She’s got a ticket!!

I can go.

Fuck.

Now I have to ask off from work again.

My brain wanted to get all on fire about that.

And what about gear?

You don’t have any gear, it chimed in moments later.

Shh.

And a ride!

How the fuck are you getting there and back, especially since you’re going to have to leave Wednesday of the event.

Shut up.

One freaking thing at a time lady.

One thing at a time.

So once I found out I had the ticket, and I’ll be paying and I make a tight scrunch face at having to put out the money, but fuck it, I’m going, so whatever, hello student loans, shh, don’t tell the government.

But seriously?

I’ll be a happier student if I get to roll into my first semester of my second year of grad school having had a few days previous on playa, I’m happy to use my financial aid.

I have a tiny scrap of it left in savings from after my New Orleans trip.

Prudent reserve be damned, get me to the playa.

The next thing I did once I stopped hyperventilating about having gotten a ticket, was to e-mail the family I nanny for and ask, with a bit of humble pie in my ask, but nonetheless, I did it, I asked.

And.

I got a response before I walked into work.

I was locking up my scooter and checking my e-mails and there it was.

A message from the mom:

I don’t see a problem with this.  We will just have more food frozen before maybe so we don’t eat too crappy that week.  We can work this out.

Glad you’re gonna go after all.  Seemed a little wrong for you to miss it.

I cook for the family (holy Toledo I made a lot of food today! Broccoli soup, zucchini noodles, spaghetti and meatballs for the boys, prepped tons of raw veggies and fruit for the weekend, and even roasted up a cauliflower which was devoured upon being taken out of the oven) and if that’s all I got to do to go, cook some extra meals and freeze them up for them, no freaking problem.

My pleasure.

I got totally teary reading the message and had to take a moment to clean myself up and go into work.

Which was a big day and I was just whomped by the end of it and in tears later when I talked to a friend about the day.

I realized I was emotionally overwhelmed with the excitement of getting to go to the event and also a bit over come with the preparations and what and where and when and all the things.

And the end of the week and the boys are rambunctious and I’ve been doing double duty on the stove and I was just walloped.

But I got my groove back.

As evidenced by me sitting here writing this.

I also put up my Burner Profile–MF Poppins–and e-mailed my friend the information she needed to assist in getting the ticket.

I still need a tent.

I probably secured an air mattress tonight.

I have bedding, I just need to hie it over to the Mission and grab my old quilt from a friend who’s been baby sitting it since I moved to Paris, I suppose three years time is about right to recollect.

The other stuff and things will happen.

Mostly.

What I need is a ride there and back.

I’m hoping to get out of town the evening of the 26th and be able to land on playa early on the 27th.

I’ll be working that Friday but free to leave as soon as work ends.

I’ll need to be back the 31st, that Wednesday.

I’ve got tickets to Mike Doughty the evening of the 1st and I have school starting on the 2nd.

I can’t be later than the 1st mid morning/early afternoon.

But I think it’d be better if I got back the 31st or left playa that day, so that I have a chance to wash the dust off me before I go to the concert.

I got the ticket.

I got a place to camp.

I got the time off from work.

I am sure I’ll get a ride there and back.

I might have to go up with someone and come back with another someone.

I’m good company.

Seriously.

And so very happy.

Very.

Very.

Very.

Happy that I get to go.

Over the moon and back times infinity.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

Burning Man 2016.

This is happening.

Scheduling

Jesus.

I looked over the next few weeks on the work calendar and just about threw up.

First day of school?

What?

No.

NOOOOOOO.

I’m still on summer break.

And yet.

There it was the first weekend of school on the books.

The mom was working on the boys school schedule, which reminded me, need to ask off for September 1st, must to go see Mike Doughty with my peoples.

I don’t have to have the whole day off, but I do need to be done with work by 6p.m.

“Mike Doughty, from Soul Coughing?!” The dad asked.

“Yup, he’s doing a Living Room tour and for one day will be in San Francisco and I managed to get tickets from myself and some friends,” I replied.

“He’s great!” The dad said, “wow, you might even get to meet him and talk.”

Yeah.

I would like that.

Amongst other things, heh.

But.

In the request for the day to be an “early” day for me, when the boys are in school I don’t start until 1p.m. and the boys will be starting school that week, so it made me realize that I also needed to tell the parents that I will be in school that Friday too.

It’s happening fast.

The summer has been fun, but I’m not ready to think yet, quite, about school.

I had a moment of mild panic, really, mild when I look at it, that I wouldn’t have enough money in my savings to buy books before the financial aid disbursement happens.

Fact is.

I haven’t received my awards letter for the fall semester.

I have no clue what I am getting in the way of aid.

I got what I needed last year, but I also made less money that year.

I made more money, almost double, at least on the books, for the this past year and I am hoping, hoping, hoping, that I will get the financial aid I need to pay for the next year of school.

I still have a scholarship disbursement, but I will have to cover the other $20,0o0 for the year after the scholarship is applied.

The cost of the program is about $30,000 per year.

And, um, yeah, I live in San Francisco, like you know, the most expensive fucking place to live in the U.S.

Then.

I snuffed the thought.

Fuck that.

I will be taken care of.

If I don’t get the financial aid the money will come from somewhere else.

I didn’t get straight A’s for my first year of graduate school to be dropped on my second year ass.

I worked hard.

Hella hard.

Now.

I want to be able to play the rest of the summer and not be concerned about finances and school and books and stuff.

It will all come when it’s supposed to.

“Do you have any more travel plans for the summer,” my friend asked me last night after I told him about my adventures in New Orleans.

I don’t know.

There is still a very tender part of me that wants so to go to Burning Man, that I can’t quite picture not going, but I have no idea what that would look like anyhow.

Where would I get a ticket, who would I camp with, how would I get there?

I would go.

I want to go.

I could go early.

It’s so obscured right now in my head, I can’t see it and it might be the first time I haven’t, hmm, you know, that’s not true, I didn’t know how I was going to go when I was in Paris, and yet I went, I can’t always see how it plays out, but somehow or other I have always ended up on playa.

One of my ladies that I work with doing the deal got a ticket and got off from work.

The glee and excitement in her voice, she’s a virgin burner, when she left me the message on the phone was almost unbearable to hear.

I do believe, though, that I am not going to be heart broken with whatever happens that week.

I’ll be ok, the plans, God’s plans, are always better than mine.

I can’t manipulate Burning Man into happening.

If it were to happen, it’s got to be simple and clean and easy, the best things are the simplest.

If it were complicated it wouldn’t work, it never does.

If it’s meant to be, I can’t fuck it up.

If it’s not, I can’t manipulate it into happening.

Just like I realized today when I wanted to bring up that first weekend of school, not just from the standpoint of hey, employers, I’m going to be in class Friday the 2nd of September, but oh yeah, um, remember when you said we would revisit my employment for the fall when the boys are in their next year of school.

What about that?

But I didn’t.

I realized that I don’t need to.

I am being taken care of.

“You write down everything you do for them and present them with it when your contract is up and point out the things that you do that are part of your contract and also what you do that is not on the contract, and let them see it, you don’t even need to ask for a raise, or mention money, you just present your list to them,” a friend told me the other day when we were talking about self-employment and what that looks like moving forward with contracts and negotiations.

September will also mark 2 years for me with the family.

Not that I will be gunning for a raise, but that I want to know if they will be needing me for the next school year.

I can’t see that they won’t, I do so much for them as a whole, not just the boys, but the whole family, the household in its entirety.

But I know that if they don’t want me moving forward.

Well.

Someone else will.

I’m taken care of.

I always have been.

I always will.

As long as I keep in fit spiritual condition.

I’ll be just fine.

More than fine.

Better than fine.

Happy.

Fucking joyous.

And.

Free.

Free.

Free.

I Only Cried Once

Ok.

Fuck.

Twice.

And of course, I was wearing glitter eye shadow today.

ALOT.

Fuck me.

Oh well.

That’s what mirrors on my scooter are for.

They certainly were not for anything else tonight coming home.

Holy fog Batman.

I was pretty soaked when I got home.

I digress.

I got out of the house early today to go wait in a line at the SFMTA.

To get a number.

To wait to be seen.

Wait, what?

Yes.

That’s right.

I had to wait in a line to wait in another line.

Ugh.

Fortunately, I had given myself enough time and I was able to address the issue, although, damn it, yes, I did cry.

I got frustrated.

I had all the things, I mean all the things, that they could possibly require, plus photographs of the scooter with the Child Care Parking Permit and my proof of insurance, my license, my title, all of it.

However.

As the supervisor so nicely told me, after I was redirected from the counter to another counter, it was the way it was.

There was nothing she could do.

“Listen, this is just the way it is, I’m sorry that you have to go through this, but there’s no other way, you need to get this documentation every time you apply for a child care permit,” she said, kindly, she was kind.

“But, I’m not asking for a new year long permit, I’m just asking to get a replacement permit,” I said, “the permit is good until November of this year.”

“Doesn’t matter, the city requires certain documentation, here, these are the forms, have your employer fill it out and then she has to come here in person and….”she paused.

I had started to cry.

I can ask for certain things from my employers, I know I can, and I have when I have needed to, but I knew, I mean, I really knew, she was not going to spend any time in the SFMTA to help me get the parking permit.

No way.

No how.

“Please, is there no other way,” I asked, “I just can’t see her coming down to do this, anything, please.”

We worked it out.

I got a sheaf of paperwork my employer will fill out and then she can mail it back to the SFMTA.

Ugh.

So I’ll get to wait another month or so and pay for parking out of my pocket, but better that than the sore knees I have had from riding my bicycle to and from work.

Plus.

Starting next week.

My work schedule will change.

10a.m.-6p.m.

This is my last week, that is, until school starts back up in the fall, with the 1p.m. to 8p.m. schedule.

The boys will be out of school as of Friday.

Which means my yoga schedule will change too.

No more yoga before work.

But.

For this week, I still have the late start and for that I am grateful as it facilitated me getting to the SFMTA and dealing with the standing in line and the paper shuffling.

And yes.

The tears.

There are just somethings that I get worked up about and I knew, I mean, knew, before going in, to not have any expectations.

Still had them.

Surprise.

Fuck.

God only knows what the fuck will happen when I am on jury duty.

Sigh.

Yup.

Got nailed with that too.

My service week is the week of June 13th.

I suspect I won’t get called, but I had to let the family know and the mom was none too pleased about that too.

I can’t delay it.

I did that already.

I was initially called up while I was in the throws of my last round of papers and projects for my first semester of grad school.

There was no fucking way I could do it.

I applied for the six month deferral.

Got it.

And then completely forgot that six months later they were going to cheerfully pull my card and call me in.

Oh well.

Civic responsibility.

“Adulting.”

All that jazz.

I do know that it won’t be as horrid as it could be, schedule wise, the family will be going back to the mom’s side of the family for a little while and I will not have them that Friday, Monday deal.

Of course, I will get to be there to open up the house for the house keeper and do some cooking and take care of things like I do.

This time, though, no locking myself the fuck out of the house.

Not playing that shit again.

My schedule has been a little wonky this week already.

I normally meet with some ladies on the weekend, all of them got rescheduled, and normally, I meet with another lady tonight, but she had work stuff.

I found myself in a part of town I don’t normally get to.

And for an hour.

I had some reprieve from the fog, the parking, the SFMTA, the work, the schedule, the juggling of folks.

It was nice.

I saw some folks I don’t see often.

And though I wasn’t pleased to get out to see how thick the fog had become, holy Moses, it was soup, I was centered and calm and happy to get home safe and sound.

To light up some candles.

To turn on the heat in my studio.

Yeah.

It really is like that.

It’s cold out here.

The fog is something serious.

And I don’t recall it being this dense already at this time last year.

I think I’m in for a pretty fogged out summer.

Grateful I work in the Mission.

I did get to see sun today.

The mom was incredulous that there was anything but sun at the beach this weekend, but I assured her, it really was dreary.

Although.

It is a cozy sort of thing.

Wrapping up the neighborhood.

Softening the edges of things.

The transformers sparking in the moisture.

The smell of the sea.

The call of the fog horn.

Just calls for cozy company.

Which shall happen this weekend.

Despite the tears.

I’m just a girl, you know.

Life is lovely.

It really is.

Fog and all.

Happy.

Joyous.

Foggy.

And.

Free.

 

Excuse Me Waiter

There’s a nanny in my soup.

Ugh.

Or soup in the nanny.

Or.

Ha.

Soup all over the nanny.

It’s Friday and of course the weekend is ramping up and there’s a bunch of motion and hustle and bustle and the dog is under foot and the dad’s grilling veggies in the back yard and the mom’s getting ready to go out and the boys are hungry and I was going too fast.

Trying to assuage the three and three-quarters year old, “CARMEN, I’m hungry, I want milky, bread and butter, bread and butter, bread and butter!” heat up my own dinner, get the toast ready for the soup, slice up some apple, get the meds ready for the older boy, and manage to unload the dishwasher all at the same time.

Sometimes.

Well.

I take on too much.

And kersploosh!

The container of broccoli soup splashes out and all over me.

I had broccoli soup down my bra.

Now.

I have had sand in my bra.

Cheerios.

I have had small children wipe runny noses on my shoulders.

I have had babies burp milk, yes, breast milk, freshly pumped by mom, in my hair.

That’ll teach you.

I started wearing my hair up pretty much right after that incident.

I have been peed on, farted on, vomited on.

I have had milk spilt on me, water, fruit juice.

Melted ice cream.

But never.

No.

Not in all my years of being a nanny, over 9 now, but who’s counting.

Have I ever had a container of broccoli soup dumped over my body.

It was like that Nickolodeon thing where they drop the green goo all over you.

It was cold.

Thank God or I would be blogging from the ER.

When I make it, I blend it hot after a full roiling boil of ten minutes so that the broccoli is super tender and easier to blend.

The mom loves my soup so much I make quadruple batches of it.

Usually enough to get through the week and over the weekend.

I suspect I will be making more broccoli soup when I go to work on Monday.

Oh well.

Broccoli soup in my socks.

That could be a great band name.

Broccoli soup on my leggings, on my jean shorts, in and on my nanny clogs.

Thank God for the dog.

SERIOUSLY.

Broccoli soup all over the fridge too and on the floor.

It was a great big mess.

I made light of it, I got it cleaned up with much help from the dad.

I got most of the soup off my clothes.

But.

I was two and a half hours out from the end of the day and the mom had plans and the dad was still working and well.

Gah.

I spent the rest of my day at work smelling like broccoli.

I was channeling Dana Carvey on SNL and chopping broccoli like no ones business.

I stank.

Of course, no one said so and when I went to do the deal, I was warmly welcomed, hugged, and loved on, but I felt awful.

My belly was moist from soup and my bra felt sticky and my socks were green.

Then someone walked in with no shoes on and abscesses all over his arms.

And.

Well.

I was just fine.

Granted.

Happy to get on my scooter after ward and get myself home and into a very hot shower, but fine, really, nobody needed to cry over spilt soup, let alone I.

I think I rolled with it pretty well.

It’s funny, though, sometimes the small stuff can get me the worst.

It is also a great reminder to me to slow the fuck down.

I don’t need to go anywhere this weekend fast.

Despite what my brain says.

And it wants to holler at me.

“YOU GOT WORK TO DO BITCH! GET ON IT!”

Hey.

Shhh.

Thanks for sharing.

I got this.

“I am so glad you are taking a break and doing something social,” my dear, darling, much missed doctor friend told me on the phone as we briefly caught up and confirmed that we would be seeing each other at the birthday party tomorrow.

I am so excited to see her.

Like.

Way excited.

I also confirmed that I would be able to make her son’s first birthday party, in fact, it will be a sweet little reunion of sorts with three of my friends and a very special reminder of the time that we spent at Burning Man just a few years back.

I will be letting myself have some nice social time tomorrow.

I might freak out about the amount of work I have yet to do, there’s more reading than I want to be acknowledging–a chapter of a book got uploaded for one of my classes and it’s far longer than I was expecting–and my Ethics class has a little more reading than I was expecting, but I got an good solid hour today in this morning as well as my morning routine.

And the papers will get written.

They always do.

I saw a friend on facecrack that just turned in her dissertation for her PhD and I was like, shit, I don’t have time for that, how am I ever going to get to that point.

And it was such a clear signal for me to slow down.

Appreciate what I do have.

First.

I don’t smell like broccoli soup anymore.

Second.

I get to connect with my friends tomorrow.

I am also going to do some nice self-care and get my mani/pedi on and an eyebrow wax.

I will do the deal.

I may do some yoga too.

Depends on how early I want to get up.

Either way.

I am making sure I get eight hours of sleep.

I am not scrimping on my sleep.

Or on my recovery.

Nope.

And I’m not fucking writing a dissertation right now either.

Just a couple, er, three, papers.

I’ll be ok.

It’s ok.

I’ve probably already spent more time being anxious about writing the papers then I will actually spend time on writing the papers.

Because.

That’s what I do.

That too, is just fine.

Tonight is not the night to beat myself up.

Not that there ever really is a good time for that.

Tonight is the night to be grateful to be clean, that I have laundry on site, free, not coin-op, that I have had a superb hot shower and I am wearing my favorite lotion and smell heavenly.

I have another cup of tea queued up and hour to wind down and relax.

Tomorrow can wait.

I just have today.

And today.

Was perfect.

Broccoli soup and all.

 

You Look Great

But you look tired.

My friend said to me just a few minutes ago in parting.

We haven’t seen each other in about three months, maybe a tiny bit more.

He’s in full-time school and working full-time.

I’m in full-time graduate school and working full time.

Add to that, doing the deal, and well, it feels like 80 hours a week.

And very little time for anything else.

Maybe some panic.

Maybe some anxiety.

I had that in spades today on my way into work on my bicycle.

I kept praying and breathing.

Deep, slow breathes in and out.

There were a lot of near misses today.

A woman ran, I mean, ran, a red light.

I narrowly avoided getting hit, seeing her just out of the corner of my eye, on her cell phone, oblivious to the oncoming traffic or the fact that there was a red light and she was zooming right along, on her way, on her Friday, got her own agenda, don’t mind me.

“Nice!” I hollered, and kept rolling.

I just had a cab almost pull out on me at 46th and Lincoln as I was turning.

She didn’t see me and I think I scared the crap out of her when I rolled up and turned aside so that she missed me, “hello, I’m right here.”

“Oh my God!”  She said and almost stalled out in the middle of the intersection.

I waved and kept going.

“Always, always, always, please look before you open your door,” I said to the woman at the intersection of Church and Market who flung open her door and nearly knocked me over.

“I am so sorry.” She said and blanched, “It’s been one of those days.”

“I feel you,” I said, “I hope it gets better.”

And I do.

I hope everybody out there has a safe and sane one.

Although I don’t think that’s actually going to happen.

It’s Halloween and the weather is nice.

There is no rain in the forecast and I foresee a lot of mischief and mayhem going on out there.

I was happy to get home alive.

I was happy to get to work alive.

As I said, the anxiety was with me the entire time I was riding into work.

I didn’t wake up anxious.

It just sort of over took me when I least expected it.

I had gotten up early to get in some reading before work.

Doing my normal routine, a little reading, a little writing, some breakfast, some coffee, check the e-mails, dress, etc, get my gear packed for work, and then sit and read.

I read and got in more reading than I expected and was grateful.

I’m still catching up from last weekend’s round of classes and I need to write a paper by Sunday.

So, imperative that I get the reading done.

I finished the chapters in the text-book and got onto the ones in the reader.

I took some notes for things I will probably write on for the paper and got a handle of what I need to do to finish the reading before I write the paper.

Then I looked at my calendar and saw that I had two more big projects that I have to do before the next weekend of classes and I have a big inventory I have booked into hear next Saturday and suddenly the feeling of quiet joy I had at getting in the hour of reading went right out the back door and was replaced by the fear of fuck, I don’t have enough time.

I know this is fear.

So I did the fear prayer and that helped.

And.

I know that creating drama in my head or catastrophizing–I just don’t have enough time to get it all done–is not helpful, that having something to fret about is a way for me to feel like I have some control.

I’m doing something, damn it, worrying, therefore, I have control over the situation.

The fact is.

I don’t have control.

And the worry is not helping me be in the present.

I asked to be brought into the present.

I did not mean that to mean that I wanted a bunch of crazy driving to keep me on my toes.

But that is exactly what happened.

I am grateful that I got my attention on the road and off my school papers and projects and reading.

Being in the moment is a challenge.

But it’s the only place I can get anything done.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” My friend asked me as I was unlocking my bike outside of Church Street Cafe.

“Nothing, I have no plans, I’ll be here,” I told him.

“My parents are coming into town, I want you to meet them,” he said.

“I would love to meet them!” I said, “they must be amazing to put up with you, especially your mother,” I teased my friend.

“She is amazing,” he said and we hugged goodnight.

It was one brief hour of catching up and I wont’ see him again until the holiday break with school.

And that is just how it is.

Hell.

At this point I am really happy when I get the opportunity to call anyone on my phone.

The best it seems that I am capable of doing is shooting out a terse, brief text most of the time.

I rarely, if ever, can make phone calls out at work, and today was like that.

I managed two short tiny calls then had to hop off the phone mid sentence.

The connecting is a desire that I have and I need to stay close to my people, but it is exhausting trying to juggle it all.

I’m doing alright.

I remind myself.

I don’t have to do it perfect.

I just have to show up.

I’m getting up earlier tomorrow than I do on my days working, but I need to meet a couple of ladies in the Inner Sunset and do the deal, then off to do some cooking, and hopefully by mid-afternoon or early evening, I will be settling in with my reader and getting it on.

So I can write my paper on Sunday.

So I can go back to work on Monday and do it all over again.

I feel a sense of deja vu as I realize this is very much like how all my weekends are.

Work.

“I don’t have any time off,” I said to my friend, in response to his, you look great but tired comment.

“I feel you,” he said looking just as harried as I.

We hugged again and we both bounced in our opposite directions.

And here it is Friday, again, with the dance music on my stereo being the only party I will be having this weekend.

Aside from the reading party of one I have reservations for.

I may even decide to not nap tomorrow.

I had plans for one, but you know what God does when I make plans?

Laugh.

A lot.

At least I know the joke is not on me.

And I can laugh along with it.

Or at least chuckle as I sip my tea.

Good night my fellows.

May your dreams be sweet.

And your sleep restful.

Oh sleep.

My darling.

I shall see you soon.

Although I shan’t be in your embrace for long.

I know I shall be soothed.

Good night.

God bless.

God speed.

God damn it.

Go For A Swim!

What?

You haven’t gotten into the pool yet?

Go for a swim!

When your person, the person that I check in with almost daily, meet with weekly (except when I am out-of-town with work or Burning Man), and trust implicitly says get into the pool.

Well.

I thought about it.

Then a dear friend and I chatted this early evening and when I told him the same thing I could hear it too in his voice, what the hell am I am waiting for.

Well.

You see, I have a lot of reading to do and some papers to write, like four, I think, could be five, but let’s not talk about that quite yet, and I have things to think about and worry about and why, I’m quite the person for self-abnegation, why the hell would I do something I like to do.

I could feel the disinclination to want to do it.

I was balking.

I don’t know why, perhaps some sense of I just don’t have time to enjoy that stuff.

I must always be doing the working and the things and the figuring it out.

And oh what the fuck.

I got into the pool.

It was preceded by a pretty honest and open communication with the family I currently nanny for in regards to the discussion that was had about my not getting paid vacation pay for going to Burning Man and I re-iterated to the mom that I understood her viewpoint, I was taken aback, that I had gone back over the contract and that I saw she was right.

I can be happy or I can be right.

I am not right.

Nor was I very happy when the initial conversation happened.

That being said, I saw my part so fast it was sort of spooky.

I saw where I assume, I saw what happens when I make assumptions, I saw what happens when I act out of fear and don’t have clear communication.

I saw it all and again, the mom was right.

Was I still a little pissed at myself this morning when I woke up?

Damn skippy.

I wrote, I prayed, I ate a healthy abstinent breakfast, I took the time to make some phone calls and I did another spot check inventory then called my person.

Who was perfect and clear and blunt, but not mean.

She knows how the fuck to communicate.

I hear her so well and it was good to have the talk and get grounded and get my principle for today, which was “just for today” and it was soothing to hear her and be on track with my life and job and recovery.

The recovery piece has been a little bumpy since I haven’t had my normal menu of places to be and church basements to sit in, since I have not been around a metal folding chair and some over cooked coffee in a few days.

I have been a touch self-reliant with my program, doing the deal on my own, but also checking in with my friends and fellows and making myself available to be checked in with by my lady bugs, confirming with them that I will be in San Francisco this weekend.

Which reminds me I have one more phone call to return, I just remembered there’s one I haven’t slotted into the schedule.

Anywho.

It was good to touch base and be held accountable and see how my perceptions are skewed and what I can do to rectify that.

Get into the pool

Oh.

You mean, get out of my head and into my body!

Duh.

I haven’t ridden my bicycle in a week and a half.

I haven’t done much exercise, not nearly enough.

I have been sitting a lot and reading a lot and processing a fuck load when I was in school and the only exercise I got was a few dance exercises (which thank fucking God that happened when it happened or I might not have made it through that last day of T-Group) and walking to and from the dining hall.

I knew when I had a cup of tea after dinner and was on the phone with a friend that I needed to out myself.

I wasn’t really in the mood at the time of the phone call either having just finished dinner and sitting on the porch swing looking out towards the rolling hills of Sonoma county and the grape vines tiled along the hillocks, the glint of sun on the underbelly of a red-tailed hawk soaring high in the dusky blue sky, the oak trees bending into the twilight and the rising song of crickets in the grass serenading me.

No.

Really?

I don’t feel like changing up and putting on my swimsuit.

But.

One little three-year old came out to snuggle in my lap, then the five-year old, the mom came out and dad and the next thing you know we are having an open conversation about what we can do moving forward and if I felt that it was unfair not to be given some sort of compensation for the week I’ll be missing work (I’m not even talking about getting paid for the two days extra, well, extra in my calculations, not in theirs) while I am at Burning Man.

The funny thing?

I had pretty much forgot the whole thing by the end of the day.

I was enjoying being in the moment with the boys, we went black berry picking and had a really nice walk and lots of snuggling and being silly with each other and time on the porch swing too.

I had legitimately let it go and had moved on.

Fucking unreal.

And.

Awesome.

The mom and dad and I talked about moving forward, when my contract was ending, what they wanted to try, not signing another year-long contract, but giving all parties a two month trial as I enter into graduate school and see what works for them and what works for them.

ASIDE

I just re-read that in my editing.  “What works for them and what works for them.” How amazing, I am still, unconsciously deciding my life on what works for them.

Fuck.

End aside.  And I’m keeping that piece in un-edited to remind myself that this is not about what works for them, but what works for me.

Now aside ending.

That maybe I would work extra household stuff, marketing and cooking and organizing while the boys were in school, to look at what I wanted for hours and that they would guarantee I got them and if I worked less, as they didn’t need me, or I had to take more time for school, that during those two months, my pay would stay the same.

Super generous.

And it felt right.

I said my gut wanted thirty hours a week.

My head wants 35 hours.

But I think I want a guarantee of 30 hours and if I need to supplement I can say so.

I can also work outside the family and do cash jobs, baby sitting gigs for families I used to work for.

Maybe just put it out there in my circles.

I don’t also have to stay with the family, I am aware too, though I did not say that to them, that I have options and if it seemed that I would do better financially to find  different situation that plays better, that I go with it.

Ultimately.

I am the only person who is going to care for me.

Though I have been assured by some lovely friends that I will be taken care of no matter what.

I believe that too.

I always have been, why the hell would it change now?

I also asked for a raise come my year.

The mom balked.

She replied that it was not standard to give a raise to someone who was going down in hours.

In fact, she intimated that when that happens the person involved makes less money.

I was taken a bit aback, but I reiterated that it was a year, that it felt right to ask for a raise, and that despite my hours lessening, and not exactly by my choice (they’re children are going into school), that my level of care and the quality of my work was not going to decrease.

We left it at that.

I also found this good information to know moving forward.

I’m not going to cut off my nose to spite my face, but I do deserve a raise and I felt it appropriate to bring it up.

They want me to continue working for them, I adore and love the boys, it could be the best of both worlds, I am just not going to not look at all my options, as again, I’m the one paying my rent in San Francisco.

I don’t see cost of living going down any time soon.

I felt good.

I communicated.

We will have another discussion.

And I went back to my room and put on my swim suit and got into the pool.

Into my body, out of my head, and my heart swelled and the old familiar comfort of swimming assuaged me and I felt connected with my body and limbs again and resolved that I would swim again every night while I am here.

Then I took a bath with French sea salts I found in the cabinet and soaked in super hot water.

I almost fell asleep in the tub!

I did good.

And I read for an hour after getting out of the bath–putting me at two hours of reading today–finishing up the reading that I needed to do for a class so that I could move into writing the paper for it.

Not too shabby for a Tuesday.

It’s nice to be reminded to take care of myself.

It’s nicer when I actually do.